Do You Remember?
by Michelle H. C. Zhu
Summary: Austin O'Brien and Jim Crocodile Cook reminiscence on all that happened the previous year over some coffee.


O'Brien had always been unaccustomed to cold weather, having spent most of his life around volcanoes in the tropics. The coat he was wearing was laborious to move around in and felt unusual against his skin, and he was more than happy to strip the damned thing off upon stepping into the café's lobby. Glancing to the side, he spied a lopsided coat rack resting by the corner and fixed his coat on one of the knobs. O'Brien fought off a shiver that accompanied the misjudgment of the café's warmth and looked around the vicinity in hopes of seeing that familiar face he was expecting. A small bell had gone off when O'Brien had shoved open the café door, but few people seemed to acknowledge the tall, strapping African American in the front of the shop whose uncertain expression juxtaposed his bold psyche.

O'Brien was not a social being. He had grown up virtually secluded from all human contact, save for his daddy. He wasn't used to being invited to a get-together with no forewarning. Certainly not when the rendezvous was a coffee shop. And certainly not by Jim Crocodile Cook.

Not to say O'Brien didn't like Jim. On the contrary, he nursed warm feelings of gratitude and respect for the boy, due to the fact it was Jim's steel will that helped O'Brien pull through his treacherous journey the previous year.

"_O'er here_! O'Brien!"

O'Brien geared in the direction of the voice. Speak of the devil—Jim was waving from an alcove at the back of the café. Relieved, he made his way over to the Australian who was lounging comfortably in a burgundy settee with one arm perched on the armrest while the other held a steaming mug. Jim smiled, his single eye twinkling in the faint ceiling lamps.

"Long time no see," he greeted warmly, "That is, if you count three months as a long time." Jim laughed. "How are you doing?"

O'Brien tried to work a smile to his face too. "Good," he said with as much liveliness as he could muster.

O'Brien started to sit down when Jim made an action that his radar would have never picked up from a million miles away. The Australian got up and wrapped his arms around O'Brien's shoulders. O'Brien immediately tensed up from the skin-to-skin contact, flinching to disable his innate military reflexes from launching Jim into a lockjaw on the floor.

Jim was a friend. Not an adversary, not a foe. _Ain't going to hurt you._

"Just wanted to make sure you're real and not a shadow or something," Jim murmured, sounding as if he had entered a trance. He felt O'Brien stiffen and pulled away. "Sorry."

Jim returned to his settee and picked up the mug again. "Sit down." Once O'Brien was seated, he offered, "Would you like something to drink? Anything to eat? No steak fries, though. We're in a coffee shop." Jim chuckled.

"I'll have coffee then."

"A coffee shop doesn't literally mean you can only order coffee." He lifted up his mug an inch to prove a point. "I'm having cinnamon spiced mocha."

"I'll have whatever you're having then."

Jim shrugged. "Whatever suits you, mate." He turned to one of the waitresses and flashed her a beaming smile. "S'cuse me, miss, but could I have another cinnamon spiced mocha for my friend here?"

The girl, who was probably in her late teens, looked as if she was going to melt into a puddle of goo. "Of course. Anything you want you just ask, mister. I'll—I'll be right back in a moment!" she replied breathlessly, and hurried away to carry out Jim's order.

"Nice girl, that lass is," Jim commented vaguely, turning back to O'Brien. "She's been giving me refills ever since I came here. Free of charge. Said everything was on the house 'cause I saved her from another customer's wrath." He took another sip and frowned. "No idea why, though. The customer was a woman in her late seventies." A shrug. "Well, whatever works. Don't fix what ain't broken."

O'Brien couldn't find any words to say to that.

Jim switched gears. "So how are things of late? Returned to West Academy, have you now? How are things back home now that your Headmaster Cobra kicked the bucket?"

O'Brien shifted in his seat, weighing whether or not to reveal the full 411 of his current situation. "Actually, I'm back on Duel Academia island," he finally admitted.

"On another business tour? You're such a busy fellow. You oughta kick back and relax. Take your mind off things for a while."

"No time for relaxing when there's always trouble on the loose." O'Brien's expression suddenly morphed into dismay when something piqued his memory. "I never gave you back your Eye…"

To O'Brien's surprise, Jim remained unruffled and calmly took a sip of his mocha. "You couldn't," he said plainly. "It shattered after your duel with Haou. The Eye of Orichalcum only lasts as long as its purpose. Once that purpose has been used up, it disappears."

Yet for some reason, the relieved feeling that normally came when a burden was taken off one's shoulders never came to O'Brien. "So what did you do with your other eye?"

Jim made a noise of indigence and flapped down the absurd idea with his hand. "_Pffft_… who needs both eyes? I can manage mighty fine with just one. 'sides, if I go blind in both eyes, Karen can always lead the way. So no worries." Upon seeing his companion's questioning look, Jim clarified— "No crocs were allowed in the café so I left Karen by a patch of swampland to take a nap." Jim leaned in closer and cupped his palm over his mouth, issuing a glimpse to his right. "And between you and me, some gals may seem to be sweet goody-two-shoes at first glance, but given the right opportunity…" He pulled his face into an exaggerated grimace and nudged his head in the direction of the female cashier up in front. "…crazy witch! She even thwacked Karen with a menu, the nerve of that gal…"

O'Brien let out a dry smile. Jim was an interesting mixture of charisma, nonchalance, and comic relief.

Despite the smile, Jim noticed that his partner was radiating an uncomfortable aura. "Something seems to be on your mind," he commented, leaning back on the settee once more.

At that moment, the waitress reentered Jim and O'Brien's personal wedge in the back of the shop, nearly knocking over a shelf holding promotional coffee mugs and exotic coffee mixes as she stumbled her way over to them. The tray that held O'Brien's mocha splashed with brown liquid.

"Your coffee, mister!" She set the mocha on the table in front of O'Brien, then straightened up to hastily fixed her hair and beamed at the two boys with saccharine enthusiasm. "Is there anything else I can help you fellows with?" she offered, clasping the empty, dripping tray to her chest.

"No, lass, we're all good!" Jim flashed her a thumbs-up. O'Brien just nodded.

She deflated momentarily, but then cheered up. "…well, alright then. Call me when you need anything else!"

"Will do."

The waitress spun around and sauntered away, concentrating too hard on the way she walked to notice the end table jutting from the corner until her hip had collided with it. With a strangled cry, she toppled face-forward towards the floor—

—straight into O'Brien's arms. The African American had analyzed the situation and leapt in like a flash of lightning to intersect her fall.

"You ok?" he asked, gazing down at her somberly.

The waitress nodded, staring up at her savior with large, star-struck eyes. Though she had only recently developed a crush on Jim, this new stranger was just as strikingly handsome as his partner. He had strong muscular arms, boldly defined features, and his lips looked so plump and luscious…

"…your shirt. It's stained," O'Brien said bluntly, pointing to her uniform.

Perhaps she shouldn't have clasped the wet tray to her body.

The waitress' face flushed a bright red. "T-thanks for pointing that out!" she blurted out and hurried away quickly, leaving O'Brien thoroughly befuddled. He blinked, staring after the girl in mild confusion, toying with the notion that maybe _he_ was responsible for her strange behavior as he returned to his seat.

Jim grinned and gestured in the direction the waitress had dashed off. "She was cute. Would be a mighty fine gal to take out to supper."

O'Brien closed his eyes with disinterest. "Got no time for those things," he grunted, crossing his arms.

"Whatever you say, mate." Jim's expression transformed from amusement to solemnity. "Now really. Tell me what's bothering you, O'Brien. I'm all ears."

"It's nothing… just…"

"You're having dreams about last year, aren't you?"

O'Brien looked away. "Do you… think about those memories?"

"Yeah. Remember when the academia was transported to the desert? We had to deal with everything from rationing our bread to dueling zombies. Wild times, wild times we had. Then Johan… sacrificed his life to return us back home. Juudai, of course, wanted to go back to the desert and save him. We ended up in a different dimension and Juudai… transformed into Haou… and then there was my duel with him… _your_ duel with him…" Jim pushed up the brim of his hat with a finger, his sea-green eyes staring wistfully at the wallpaper. "But you came through in the end, O'Brien. You saved him."

"_We_ saved him," O'Brien said pointedly, "I couldn't have done it without you."

Jim brushed off the recognition with nonchalance. "What—a tough, strong solider like yourself? Please…"

"Your Eye of Orichalcum was the key to breaking Juudai from Haou's control. Had it not been for that—"

"—had it not been for you and your courage to duel him, we'd all be dead." Jim twirled a circle with his index finger. "We as in _everyone_. Dead as in D-E-A-D."

O'Brien placed his mug on the table and gripped his hands together, staring at his boots. "It's not like that. I didn't think I could do it at all," he muttered quietly into his feet.

"But you pulled through in the end, didn't you? And that's what counts."

O'Brien felt an anger surge within him at Jim's casual attitude. Did he even know what he was saying?

"So victory is all that counts?" he demanded, "Winning without honor? It doesn't matter that I fled the battlefield after you lost and ran like a dog with its tail between its legs? Just so as long as the good guys won in the end—is that the only important thing to take away from this experience?" A beat. O'Brien slumped into his shoulders. "You didn't see me back there. I was so scared of Haou. I acted like a complete coward."

Silence. Perhaps not in the entire café, but between the pair of third-year boys dwelling in a corner, silence was the only plausible answer at that moment. Jim gazed at the African American for a few minutes, as if trying to convey a message without using words. At the end of the pseudo-communiqué, Jim sighed. He uncrossed his legs and moved them from the footrest to the ground, hauling himself into a sitting position.

"O'Brien. O'Brien, look at me," Jim persuaded when O'Brien refused to meet his eyes. "I saw everything back there."

"So why do you insist…" he snapped, only to be cut off.

"I was watching over you throughout your journey to find yourself. For you, O'Brien, it wasn't just another mission to defeat the enemy. It was a mission to defeat your _fears_ that held you back. Once you finally won against yourself you went after Haou, and I watched even then. And you know what else? You could have given up. You could have discarded my Eye and just ran away as far as your legs could carry you. But you didn't. You had courage. You had hope."

"If you say so." His voice was cold, dead.

"O'Brien…"

"You never met Marufuji Ryou, have you?" Sudden conversation change. A beat. "Hell Kaiser. That's the title he's been going with the past couple of years."

Jim nodded impatiently. "I know, I know. What about him?"

"I heard rumors. Marufuji was once a dignified duelist, but since he was defeated by Edo Phoenix, he transformed into… was it darkness that controlled him…? Or did he just want power?" O'Brien muttered to himself, lost in thought. "Like Tenjoin? Fujiwara Yuusuke? Juudai… he…"

"Sometimes, it's hard to distinguish the difference between those two," Jim said quietly.

"Juudai wanted both."

Jim frowned. "Juudai didn't want—"

"Juudai chose the path that power had shown him even if it meant darkness buried his heart. He said those exact words to me."

"That was the Supreme King Haou speaking—"

"Haou and Juudai are the same person," O'Brien retorted, "Whatever words Haou said came out of Juudai's mouth."

"Maybe that's the case now," Jim snapped back, "But back then, the circumstances were different." Jim breathed a sigh. "O'Brien. The truth being this: I did not die to save a homicidal tyrant—"

O'Brien gave a noncommittal grunt.

Jim rose from the couch as his anger and frustration peaked. "—the Eye of Orichalcum only works on a special person who I hold as a dear friend. Do you really think all of us would be here today if I didn't trust from the bottom of my heart that I was using my Eye to save an _ally_, not an _enemy_?"

Jim growled, his single eye narrowing at the miserable figure still perched in his seat.

"Why are you doing this to yourself? Why do you keep on picking open old wounds to rub salt into them? You weren't a coward, O'Brien. You tried your best, you fought—bravely! Fought when no one else would stand up against Haou's army! Then you defeated Haou himself! What more do you want? What more are you looking for? What is it that Juudai has taken from you that you want back…?"

Another beat. Jim suddenly understood; he had found the answer was in his own words. _What Juudai had taken from O'Brien…_

"You loved him, didn't you? Some part of you… some very tiny part that you never want to see the light of day… loved and respected Juudai. You loved his ability to never give up, never say die. You loved his optimism, the way he was the glue that held the entire bunch of 'em together—Manjyome, Tomorrow Girl, Dino boy and the whole gang. But most of all, you loved Juudai's innocence… the innocence you never had. That's it, isn't it. You felt as if you couldn't protect Juudai from losing that innocence."

"Isolating yourself from those around you in order to reach higher expectations… I told him I had experienced the same thing," O'Brien said pensively.

Jim quirked an eyebrow.

"I _envied_ him."

He waved it off. "… Two sides of the same coin."

"When I dueled the Supreme King, I asked if he was afraid of being lonely. His friends' lives were brutally sacrificed in front of his eyes. It's enough to gut anyone. I thought that's why he turned the dark side…"

"I know what you're thinking," Jim remarked, "You're thinking: How can someone with so many friends be so lonely? Am I right?"

O'Brien bit his lip. "He said he wasn't lonely."

"Are you lonely?"

O'Brien abruptly got up. "It's getting late. I should be heading back to the mainland."

Yet as he began to walk away, Jim called out to him.

"Do you recall the card you drew on your final turn? Do you remember my hand placed over yours?"

O'Brien stopped and looked around.

"Do you remember?" Jim repeated.

His gaze moved to his hand. "There was strength radiating within me…" he murmured.

"You're not the only one who's been suffering nightmares," Jim whispered, getting up and facing the African American. "…if that dark ruler had been you instead of Juudai… I would have used the Eye of Orichalcum without hesitation." Jim smiled, and rested a hand on a muscular shoulder, squeezing it gently. "You're never alone, O'Brien."

O'Brien was silent for a moment and then looked as if a new realization dawned upon him. "Power…" he muttered, his brow furrowing in deep concentration, "…everything stems from power… the notions of courage, heroism, justice, pride, deception…"

"Why are you having this conversation with me?" Jim chortled, amused at his friend's sudden epiphany. "Deep philosophical conversations about power should be held with one who obsesses over it, no?"

O'Brien smiled darkly. Of course they both knew he would never have a chat with Hell Kaiser.

"I reiterate what I said before: Relax. Take your mind off things. We're young tadpoles—still fresh off the bunch and new to the big pond. Don't think you have all the answers to the world just yet. Things happen, people change. All these obscure notions—save them for later." Jim leaned in. "_Try graduating first."_ His eyebrows arched dramatically.

O'Brien shook his head and chuckled dryly. "Joking aside, I really should be going now. Thanks for the coffee."

"Sorry this place doesn't serve hamburgers."

"Keh. We'll meet up again in the near future." His lips twisted into a crooked grin. "Our next rendezvous will be at a burger stand."

Jim smirked. "Sounds good, mate."

As O'Brien escaped from his intimacy with Jim, the waitress from before materialized in front of him. In her hands held a tray carrying a strawberry pink frappuccino topped with whipped cream. She pouted slightly as she extended her arms to O'Brien.

"I'm sorry about before. I was being rude and ungrateful. I wanted to make it up to you…"

Before O'Brien could stutter out a 'thank you' and accept her… present, Jim swooped in and snatched the cup from the tray. "Oh, why _thank you_!" he beamed far too happily.

"…" The waitress' jaw went slack.

Then Jim looked at her. He looked at the frappuccino. He looked at her. He jumped back in theatrical horror and put on a mask of regret.

"Oh, was that was for him? I'm terribly sorry!" he exclaimed even after he put his mouth on the straw and sucked off the whipped cream.

Both the waitress and O'Brien were speechless as they watched on, neither finding it within themselves to stop the guy.

After Jim had his share of the drink, he cupped his chin and pretended to think. "Say… if you want to make it up to this bloke, why don't you accompany him to dinner?"

O'Brien gasped in absolute dismay. Jim chose to ignore it.

"I'd love to!" the girl cried. She quickly restrained her excitement. "I mean, if-if that's ok with him…"

O'Brien opened his mouth to protest but Jim cut him off in a timely fashion, sporting delightful smiles and Australian suavity.

"Of course he would!" he exclaimed on O'Brien's behalf. "Go get 'em tiger…" he whispered devilishly into O'Brien's ear and then thrust the palm of his hand into O'Brien's back. He stumbled forward right into the waitress and she attached herself around one of his arms like a leech.

"I…" O'Brien started, but nobody was listening. As he was dragged away, O'Brien sent a fleeting glance over his shoulder; he was grimacing in horror. Jim beamed and waved cheerfully back at him.

As soon as the soldier boy was out of sight, Jim sighed. He took another sip of the frappuccino before setting it on the table and crawling back onto the settee.

"Take care of yourself, Austin. Take care of yourself."


End file.
